


Haus Bylaws that Need to be Added to the Wall: The Moonshine ("Moonshine") Situation

by Perpetual Motion (perpetfic)



Series: Haus Bylaws [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Tiny Dex cameo, gen because no relationships are mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 22:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8418736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetfic/pseuds/Perpetual%20Motion
Summary: Do not bring that mass-produced "moonshine" bullshit into Bitty's kitchen. (Bylaw sub a. And for the love of god, do not accept clear liquors from the little bastard.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> In case you find this on its own, the "Haus Bylaws" series is just a big series (or a hopefully soon-to-be big series) of one-shots all revolving around the idea of new bylaws for the Haus. Characters and pairings and such can change at any time, hence why it's in parts and not chapters (easier to find the ones you'll enjoy).

"What. Is. That."

Ransom and Holster, sitting at the table and finishing the last of Bitty's midterm stress muffins, both turn to see what's made Bitty so offended. It appears to be the large collection of fresh liquor set up on the counter like it's taking a group selfie.

"Whiskey and Tango wanted to try out their fake IDs, so we sent them on a booze run," Holster says. "Were they supposed to grab you something?"

"We'll send an actual adult if you need something else," Ranson says. "They were a little hyped up when they got back."

Bitty walks over to the counter and picks up a jar at the front of the liquor group portrait. "Moonshine?" 

"We did not have that on the list, but you can't trust newly ID-ed kids these days," Holster says.

"This isn't even a mason jar!" Bitty holds it out to Ransom and Holster so it can be judged. "It's a mayonnaise jar at best, and it has _certainly_ never been used as anything besides a fraudulent attempt at moonshine."

Ransom and Holster glance at each other. Holster raises one eyebrow. Ransom scratches his ear. Holster shrugs and turns back to Bitty. "You seem to have opinions on moonshine. This is surprising."

Bitty sighs and glares into the side of the jar. "There's tinge to this! There is yellow tinge!"

"Tinge is a weird word," Ransom says.

"Tinge. Tinge. Tinge." Holster replies.

"A _tinge_!" Bitty looks at the label and lets out a horrified gasp. "40 proof! 40...this isn't even a _third_ what it should be." He looks up, past Ransom and Holster, clearly looking for someone. "Where are they? Those tadpoles need a lesson."

"Finishing their midterms," Ransom says. "Seriously, Bits, what's up with this new layer of drunk knowledge you have not previously bestowed on us?"

"Yeah, you don't give off a...redneck? Is redneck the word if you have a still?" Holster asks. "Or white trash?"

"You shut your mouth," Bitty says. Holster shuts his mouth. "It's not a redneck or white trash thing. It's…" he looks up at the ceiling, thinking. "It's a family thing. Sometimes. For me, it's a family thing. My mother's third cousin down my Great-Aunt Mavis's line in Appalachia is a fourth generation brewer. But because it's liquor and not beer, it gets painted as...inappropriate...but if it were backwoods beer the companies were suddenly justifying, you'd be all over it."

"Bits, you are super red," Holster says. He stands and offers Bitty his chair. Bitty sits hard, thumping the jar on the table. "I apologize for my asshole way in trying to describe your family tradition."

"And I apologize, as co-captain, for letting Whiskey and Tango bring anything you consider inferior into this kitchen," Ransom says.

Bitty shakes his head. "40 percent. That's not even high enough to sanitize the counters."

"What can we do?" Ransom asks. "You tell us what to do, and we will fix this."

Bitty finally smiles, pleased at the offer. "Oh, none of that. I can take care of this myself. Just need to call my mother and get something overnighted."

"If this is for the further education of the tadpoles, take it from the sin bin," Holster says.

"Thank you," Bitty replies, 

"If it's booze, you can't put that in the mail," Ransom says. "Shitty gave a whole lecture on how stupid it was once."

"UPS and Fedex can both ship liquor, and my mother's been best friends with the manager since we moved to Madison. It's handled." Bitty says, then stands up and walks out of the kitchen, the jar clutched in one hand.

"That sounded mob-ish," Ransom says. "Like, I know a guy who knows a guy. Is there a Southern mob?"

"We'll Google it later," Holster replies, and Ransom nods in agreement.

*

The "Holy-shit-we-all-passed-midterms-and-won't-get-suspended-from-the-team" epikegster happens the next night. Whiskey and Tango walk over together, discussing if it's too early to start sucking up for dibs. 

Ransom and Holster are standing on the porch, watching them walk up. They both have their arms crossed and look serious. Like, 0-2 to Yale late in the second period, and they weren't losing to Yale again, so let's fuck it up, serious.

"Everything okay?" Tango asks.

"You two have to pay for crimes against booze," Holster says. "Report to BIttle."

"What did we do?" Tango asks.

"I didn't know Hard Lemonade counted as a wine cooler!" Whiskey says at the same time.

Ransom and Holster look at each other, then back at the tadpoles. 

"To the kitchen," Ransom says. "And you'll know what you did."

"And that's two dollars to the sin bin for malted liquor," Holster adds. "We'll discuss the great disrespect you have done to us all later."

Whiskey and Tango glance at each other then slowly climb the steps to enter the Haus. The party has only just started, so the noise is mostly tolerable. There's enough room to walk from the living room to the kitchen easily, and when they get to the kitchen, they find the table cleared off except for two shot glasses.

"Hey, Bitty," Whiskey says. "The captains said we have to report to you."

"Yes, you do," Bitty replies, not turning from the stove. He's stirring something in a pot. "Dex!" he shouts. Dex pops his head in from the living room almost instantly. "Could you keep stirring this reduction for me?"

"On it," Dex says. "This the lemon one or the kiwi one?"

"Cherry," Bitty answers. "Thank you." He turns to look at Whiskey and Tango. "Sit," he says. They sit.

"Why are we getting a booze lesson?" Tango asks.

Bitty reaches into a cabinet and pulls out two jars. He thumps one on the table. Whiskey and Tango recognize it from the liquor run. "You brought… _this_...into my kitchen."

"Oh, god, we're sorry!" Whiskey says. "We weren't trying to imply anything, Bitty! We just thought it was funny-funny, not Bitty's-southern-so-clearly-he's-had-it-funny."

"Yeah," Tango adds. "If we offended you with it, totally on us. We will not do it again."

Bitty looks over his shoulder at Dex, who is watching the whole exchange and looking like he's about to burst out laughing. Bitty thumps the other jar on the table and sits across from Whiskey and Tango. "I _am_ offended," Bitty says. "Because you were _right_ in your idea that I've had it, but then you brought," he holds up the round jar and shakes it, "water," he finishes. "Your brought me water."

"No! It's liquor!" Whiskey says. "It's got a proof."

"Shush," Bitty orders. Whiskey shushes. Bitty looks at Tango, who does not say a word. "You brought me water," he repeats. He opens the round jar and sniffs. "Lord, it's not even strong enough to burn your nose," he mutters. He pours a measure into each shot glass. "Drink," he says.

Whiskey and Tango drink. Whiskey and Tango shudder. Whiskey and Tango both frantically lick the roof of their mouths to get rid of the taste. 

"Jesus, this is worse than tub juice before the flavoring," Whiskey says.

"Am I gonna die from this?" Tango asks.

Bitty closes the jar and shoves it away like the insult it is. "You taste that aftertaste? Like something wasn't quite cooked right?"

"Yes," Whiskey says, at the same time Tango says, "Oh god oh god."

"You taste that rubbing alcohol taste?"

They both nod rather than answer. Whiskey is staring frantically at the sink, clearly wanting water, but he knows better than to ask.

"Water?" Tango asks.

"After," Bitty replies. He opens the other jar, a squareish Mason jar that he knows held his mother's winter preserves. He sniffs and jerks his head away. "That's better," he says. He pours Whiskey and Tango a shot each. "Now, drink this."

Whiskey and Tango glance at each other. They look at Dex, who shakes his head to show he is not helping them here. They look at Bitty, who stares them down. They drink.

"No, no, no, I'm gonna die from _this_." Tango yelps.

"My insides are gone!" Whiskey shouts. "Like, gone-gone."

Bitty watches them both flail in agony, then takes a small sip from the bottle. He only winces slightly. "Well, that's because you never do a full shot." He passes the bottle back to Dex. Dex takes a small sip, barks out a breath, and shakes his head.

"Holy shit," Dex says. "I think I went blind for a second."

"It'll pass," Bitty replies. He puts the lid back on the jar, then sets the jar down in the center of the table between the two shot glasses. " _This_ is moonshine, boys. You ever walk into my kitchen with less than 120 proof ever again, I will make you drink more of the good stuff, and it don't take much to hurt. Do we understand one another?"

"Yes," Whiskey manages to wheeze out, trying to hold back a cough.

"Can I have water now?" Tango asks.

Bitty gets up and gives them both glasses of water. They chug. "You ever get a sinus infection or a cold sore, you take half a teaspoon. Otherwise, you leave moonshine to me."

"We promise," Whiskey says.

"Absolutely promise," Tango adds.

Bitty waves them away from the table, and they flee, already a little stumbly from the full shots. He walks over to the stove and takes over the stirring from Dex. "Thank you for the help," he says. "If you want to learn how to glaze a cake, come back in twenty minutes."

"Swasome," Dex replies. "Should I keep an eye on them? I know the stuff they bought isn't moonshine-moonshine, but that's a lot of booze all at once."

"Get them more water and make them drink it," Bitty says. "No beer pong or flip cup or tub juice for at least an hour."

"Got it," Dex replies. He pours two more glasses of water and walks out of the kitchen, hollering for the tadpoles to come finish taking their medicine.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout-out to Templemarker for the beta. Learned about sending booze in the mail.


End file.
